


The Huntsman and the Bard

by rhysiana



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Faerie Kidnapping, Faerie Queens Are Not Nice People, Gleeful Mashing Together Of Random Bits of Folklore, M/M, Tam Lin references, Welsh mythology references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:04:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhysiana/pseuds/rhysiana
Summary: Derek Nurse has cut it extremely fine on finding a cover story location for their New England travel magazine's fall issue, but he the pumpkin farm he just came across looks almost too good to be real. If only he can get the taciturn owner to agree to an interview...Dex has no interest in an interview, or any kind of publicity. He's just trying to live a normal, mundane life, far, far away from the politics of the Faerie Court and his mother. But this journalist is proving oddly persuasive...In which things go right, and then they go very, very wrong. Faerie queens do not like to be denied.





	

**Author's Note:**

> No joke, this entire story started because omgericzimmermann was making Halloween icons and said, "Hey, the hex code for pumpkin orange is just one letter off from the color of Dex's eyes." And my brain said, "Oh, of course, because he is the Pumpkin Prince, son of the Queen of Autumn," which of course led to rereading an ancient Scottish ballad and going on a Wikipedia spiral through Welsh mythology, and now here we are, almost 10k words later. Because of a comment about hex code.
> 
> A thing that might be helpful before you start reading is to read the [ballad of Tam Lin](http://tam-lin.org/analysis/tamtranslated.html). It's not terribly long, and is a classic Halloween tale, so hey, culture! Alternatively, you can read the [Wikipedia synopsis](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tam_Lin) or skip to the endnotes, where I'll provide a short explanation of the one reference in the story that isn't self-explanatory.
> 
> Edit: There is now [fantastic art of faerie prince Dex](http://rhysiana.tumblr.com/post/156774973613/while-i-was-commissioning-littlestpersimmon) by littlestpersimmon!

Derek had been location scouting for three straight days, but now, leaning against the roof of his car as he stood by the open driver’s side door so he could take in the entire scene in front of him, he was pretty sure he’d found it. He took out his phone to call his editor.

“Lards, I’ve got it. It’s great. The pictures are going to be unreal. It’s so perfect for the October/November issue. Send Jack out immediately.”

“Nurse. Less gushing, more concrete details.”

“Oh! It’s this pumpkin farm. Rolling hills, trees all changing colors around the edges, it’s like autumn perfection distilled. Lemme text you a pic from my phone.”

“Great. Text the address, too. Has the owner signed the interview and feature agreement yet?”

“Uh… no.”

“No?”

“I haven’t actually talked to them yet? I just found the place and called you right away.”

He actually heard her _tap_ an ellipsis on the desk with her fingernail.

“Sorry, I got excited. I’ll go do that now.”

“Good.” She hung up.

Whatever. Derek was right. This place was perfect for their New England travel magazine. He snapped a quick picture with his phone and texted it, as promised, along with the address, just so he wouldn’t forget to do it later. He’d never once had a proprietor tell him no. That was why Larissa made him do location scouting in the first place.

He got back in the car and drove down the dirt road into the farm proper. He was just starting to wonder if there was ever going to be some kind of building when a farmhouse finally came into view. He parked the car in the graveled area in front and just stared at the house for a moment. It was like looking at the Platonic ideal of a farmhouse. It fit so perfectly into its surroundings it seemed vaguely unreal.

He was still sitting there staring when a man opened the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. He was wearing sturdy work boots, worn but well-fitting jeans, a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a scowl. He came as far as the top of the stairs and glared down at Derek’s car, sunlight glinting off his bright red hair.

Derek hastily unbuckled his seatbelt and grabbed for the paperwork in the passenger seat. “Hello,” he called as he got out of the car, public-charming smile on his face. He walked forward, extending a hand. “I’m—”

“We’re not open to the public yet. Come back in two weeks,” the man said, cutting him off.

Derek could feel his smile dimming, but soldiered on anyway. Larissa would never let him live it down if he couldn’t get this guy to agree to a feature. “I’m, uh, actually from the magazine _Discover New England_ and we were hoping we could do a feature story on your farm for our next issue?” He wasn’t really sure how that turned into a question at the end, but the other man’s continued glare may have been starting to have an effect.

“No.”

Derek blinked. He had honestly never been flat-out refused before. His determination hardened. He renewed his smile. “Look, I’ve been looking for our cover feature location for three days, and this is absolutely _the_ most perfect place I’ve ever seen. I can’t accept your ‘no’ without at least a token fight. Can I get you to take a look at a few of our past issues while I try to convince you? I promise not to take up more than fifteen minutes of your time.”

***

Dex continued frowning down at the man in his driveway. Had his mother sent him? He was certainly pretty enough, but the Autumn Queen tended to color-coordinate her court in shades of birch bark and autumn leaves, while this man was all brown earth and dew-silvered moss. Dex racked his brain for another monarch who favored such coloration, but came up with nothing. Of course, he’d not been home for long enough now that he could no longer be sure of spotting spies, a downside he had not previously considered. But the man seemed very determined to continue this guise of working for a magazine, so perhaps Dex could determine if he was telling the truth or not by continuing the conversation. If his mother was sending spies now and he sent this one away, she’d just send another one. One he might not spot.

He sighed and gestured shortly at one of the rocking chairs on the porch. “Fine.”

The man quickly climbed the steps and settled himself in the offered chair, clearly half-convinced Dex would rescind the offer. He set a leather binder on the table between the chairs, from which he extracted a glossy magazine. “Here, this is from the spring. We put out about six issues a year, and we try to publish things that will be of interest to both tourists and native New Englanders.”

Dex accepted the magazine, noting the cover featured a flower farm he thought he’d heard of. As he flipped it open to look at the other pictures, he realized he’d actually been there. The owner was entirely nonmagical, which had been a relief, and had turned out to be a good source of advice about how to run a seasonal business. He turned his attention to the words of the accompanying article, vaguely aware the man was still talking to him, but not paying any attention.

“It’s good,” he said. The flow of words cut off abruptly.

“I—what?”

“The article. And the photographs. They’re good. I know this place; this is all accurate.”

“Oh. Yes. Thank you.”

Dex raised a brow.

The man flushed faintly. He pointed to the byline at the top of the article. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I introduced myself. That’s me, Derek Nurse. I wrote it.”

“Ah.”

The man—Derek—looked at him expectantly and eventually cleared his throat slightly. “And you are…?”

“Oh. You can call me Dex.”

“Okay… uh, so anyway, as I was saying, we’d really love to feature your farm for the October/November issue. We’d do a quite similar spread to the one you see there—our photographer, Jack, is really great, he’ll definitely do you justice—and I’d write the text to go with it, and then we’d probably also have our food writer, Bitty, I mean, Eric, do some recipes using some of your produce, if you think that would be good? The whole production shouldn’t take up more than a day, the photographs and me doing a bit of an interview and Eric maybe picking out some stuff…” He trailed off, looking somewhat uncertain, which Dex took to mean he must still be frowning.

He made an effort to smooth out his face as he considered. It didn’t sound like this Derek was anything other than a mundane human, despite his appearance. Dex’s mother rarely went in for something with such coordinated nuance in the background; her attention was always to the surface detail, the pretty shell, never the meat underneath. He made a decision.

“Yes.”

“Yes?” Derek looked startled. Again. Was Dex really so poor at communicating?

“Yes, you can write the article. It’s fine,” he clarified. Over-clarified, probably.

“Great! I just have some papers…” Derek flipped through his folder again quickly, “that I need you to sign, and then we can figure out what day would work best for you.”

Dex accepted the papers and the pen, careful to sign with his first initial only, despite being fairly certain this was an entirely human endeavor. “Any day should be fine. I’m always here in this season.”

Derek whipped out his cell phone. “Perfect. Let me just… contact my editor about how soon she can get everyone out here…” He looked up, gray-green gaze both igniting and soothing something inside Dex, which was… alarming. He did not want to like this man. He did _not_. “Would the day after tomorrow work?”

“As I said, I’ll be here.”

“Perfect. We’ll see you then!” Derek said, rising. He looked at his watch. “And look at that, under fifteen minutes, as promised.”

The corner of Dex’s mouth twitched in an involuntary half-smile. “I do appreciate a man who can keep his promises.”

***

Derek got back in his car greatly relieved. Things had seemed pretty touch-and-go there for a little while, and he still wasn’t entirely sure what had persuaded Dex to change his mind. As he backed out and turned around, he shrugged to himself and waved into the rearview mirror. What did it matter why the other man had changed his mind, at least he’d signed the agreement.

Derek headed back to the city, already turning over descriptions of hillsides dotted with bright orange pumpkins, fall foliage, the quaint farmhouse… and the farmer’s bright red hair, piercing amber eyes, and distractingly elegant fingers as he’d wielded Derek’s pen… _Wait, what? No. Stop that._

And yet, that last thing he’d said just before Derek drove away had sounded suspiciously flirtatious.

Hadn’t it?

Derek drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he pondered, then grinned to himself in anticipation of the upcoming daylong interview and all the opportunities to gather clues it would undoubtedly provide.

***

Dex stood on the porch until the journalist’s car was out of sight over the first hill, then walked out into house patch just beyond the back door. He let his awareness unfurl into the earth around him like vines, feeling the tension in his shoulders release. Everything around him came back to him magnified, the warmth of the sunshine on the soil, the crispness of the air, the smell of dead leaves on the ground at the forest’s edge, even the slight slowing of the sap in the trees. All was as it should be.

As he took contentment from the autumn landscape around him, he also gave it back, and the crops flourished. They’d let him know if anything was wrong. He tilted his face up into the sun and smiled faintly. The lingering suspicion about his mother faded.

He went back into the house.

***

From the edge of the forest, a fox watched.

***

The magazine people showed up bright and early two days later. The first to arrive was the photographer, Jack, who was refreshingly quiet and focused on his work. He was actually standing out next to the road, just the other side of Dex’s fence in the early morning light, when Dex found him. They nodded at each other cautiously, and Jack just gestured at the scene in front of him in answer to Dex’s questioning look before raising his camera again. Dex leaned on the fence and looked with fresh perspective, admitting that Jack clearly had an eye: the early morning fog hovered just above the pumpkins, blurring the colors of the changing trees in the distant background, turning golden just at the top, where the sun touched it as it rose over the hills. Everything appeared ghostly, almost… ethereal. Dex’s lips twisted in a wry smile. Apparently he couldn’t get away from it.

Eventually the fog burned off and the occasional car started passing them on the road, breaking the silent bubble that had surrounded them. Jack rearranged his camera lenses in a flurry of zippers and Velcro. “Anywhere off limits?” he asked. “Or anything you want highlighted especially?”

Dex waved a hand. “Feel free to go wherever you’d like. I’m sure you know your job better than I do.”

Jack gave him a half-smile and headed back to his car, parked on the grassy shoulder. He dumped his equipment belt in the passenger seat as he got in, then stuck his head out the window again. “Parking?”

“Follow the drive. There’s a gravel area in front of the house, you can’t miss it.”

Jack nodded again and headed into the farm. Just as he rounded the first bend, two other cars turned off the main road. Derek, the reporter, waved from the lead car. Dex raised a hand in greeting, then set off across the fields.

The day passed with much less annoyance and disruption than Dex had anticipated. Instead of sitting down formally on the porch or in the living room for a traditional interview, Derek asked if he could just accompany Dex on his daily chores and talk as they went. Given that this meant Dex could actually be _doing_ something while talking, he agreed immediately. Besides, the porch had now been commandeered by the tiny, frightening woman he could swear he heard someone call “Lards,” who was clearly in charge and had been accompanied by a cheerful blond man.

“Oh, that’s Eric,” Derek explained. “We usually call him Bitty. We’ve got this guy in our office who insists on giving everyone nicknames. Anyway, he’s our recipe guy.”

“And he needs to be here all day?”

Derek grinned. “Not for any legit professional reason, no, but he doesn’t let that stop him. You’ll see.” He knocked his elbow into Dex’s and pointed with chin to where Jack was approaching the house again, focused on his camera’s viewscreen as he looked back through some of the photos he had just taken, completely oblivious. Bitty had frozen in his rocking chair, cheeks turning steadily pinker.

“Ah.”

“Yeah,” Derek said cheerfully. “Something’s gonna have to give soon. The tension is so thick in the office you can practically cut it. But if you’ve got any produce ready to be used and are cool with Bitty using your kitchen, I guarantee you’ll end the day with a truly excessive number of baked goods. We all benefit from his attempts to distract himself from Jack.”

As an act of charity, and not _at all_ in the interest of securing baked goods made by someone else, Dex delayed getting started on his own rounds to show Bitty the house garden and the kitchen. Bitty was delighted. Dex left him to it.

Derek walked easily beside him as he headed into the nearby fields. It was occurring to him now, a bit belatedly, that he wasn’t quite sure how to look “normal.” Surely there was a limit on the number of times he could just stop in a field and appear to pause to take some deep breaths with his eyes shut before moving on. Whatever. He knelt down to pretend to seriously examine some leaves.

“So, Dex, can I get your actual name? Not really sure Larissa will let me get away with referring to you exclusively by your nickname in the article.”

“Oh. Yes. Will Poindexter.”

Derek looked up from the notebook that had appeared from some pocket or the other. “Will or William?”

“Will, please.” Not that it was much of a leap, but every layer away from a true name he could get, he would use.

“Did you grow up here?”

“Definitely not.” The barest hint of a smile ghosted across his face. Surprisingly, he thought Derek actually caught it. He cleared his throat. “Just moved here a few years ago.”

“Yeah? Where from?”

“Maine.” Not a lie. He’d left his mother’s realm by a back way and come out on a stretch of wild and rocky coast. Every minute spent on fishing boats on the open sea had been a relief, knowing his mother’s powers couldn’t extend beyond the shore. That first spring and summer had been a revelation (the unexpected pain of sunburn notwithstanding.)

He realized he had probably been silent for too long when Derek clicked his pen a few times. He must be a terrible interview subject. He cast about for something else that felt safe to reveal. “I worked as a lobsterman for a while, but eventually the land called me back.”

Derek smiled encouragingly. “And what made you pick Massachusetts?”

Somehow Dex didn’t think “the spirit of Autumn is strongest here while also being long enough settled by humans to adequately weaken the power of the Fae” was something he could pass off entirely as New Age nonsense, plus he didn’t really dress the part, so he went with, “Soil seemed right for what I wanted to do.”

Derek actually half-snorted a laugh at that. “Don’t want to wax rhapsodic about the setting our autumn leaves provide? The forests and hills?”

“I thought that was your job,” Dex responded dryly.

“Gonna make me work for it, huh?”

Dex cut his eyes over, and yes, Derek was definitely smirking at him. He allowed his lips to turn up slightly at the edges.

“So why pumpkins?”

“I have… an affinity for fall.”

He could _feel_ it as Derek’s gaze raked over him.

“I’ll say,” Derek murmured.

And now he could feel a pleased and embarrassed flush spreading across his face, up his neck, to the tips of his ear. _The tips of his ears_. He resisted the sudden paranoid urge to check them with his fingers. He’d never once dropped his illusion in the mundane world and he certainly hadn’t done so today. Because of a compliment. Annoyance at himself restored his control. He was fine. This was fine.

He was startled to realize they had spent hours walking through the fields, Dex ostensibly looking for weeds (as if any would dare grow on his land) and occasionally redirecting a vine, Derek taking notes about the different varieties being grown.

“Fairytale pumpkins? Seriously? Who names these things?” Dex’s bark of laughter at that got bitten back and turned into an awkward cough while turning away. If he only _knew_.

As they came to the next field, Dex watched Derek out of the corner of his eye, waiting for the reaction. Derek blinked and stopped. He blinked again. “Are… are they supposed to be like that?”

This time Dex did allow himself to grin. “Yup.”

“They’re… they’re like ghost pumpkins.”

“There’s a couple different kinds in there, all naturally white. The Full Moon and Cotton Candy ones are good for carving, and the Lumina is actually pretty good for baking. Orange inside, so the end result doesn’t look any different.”

“Huh. Can we take one back for Bitty? I bet it’d make a good photo opportunity for Jack.”

Dex obligingly picked one and they started back to the house.

“So how did you know that one was ripe?”

 _I asked it_. “You get an eye for it.” Also not a lie. “What I usually tell people at the farmer’s market is…” The explanation carried them all the way back, Derek taking dutiful notes.

Bitty was indeed thrilled with the pumpkin, as was Jack, though possibly he was just thrilled that Bitty was thrilled and standing in front of a window that got good light. Larissa had installed herself at the breakfast bar on the other side of the counter, “as taste tester,” though as far as Dex could tell, that was mostly an excuse to smirk at Bitty and Jack’s attempts at flirting while sending emails to someone named… Shitty? He didn’t ask.

It was all… fun. He looked around his kitchen and felt more at home than he had in years. Possibly ever.

It was strange.

***

The weather had been the epitome of autumn all day, culminating in a stunning golden hour that had Jack chivvying them all outside. He took some more shots of Dex, consulted with Derek’s notes about notable spots of interest from their earlier walk around the farm, and then rounded it all out by taking shots of the group having cider on the porch as the sun just started to slide behind the trees.

Dex raised an eyebrow at that. “Are you often all in the magazine photos?”

“Oh, no. These are just for the office,” Jack replied. _For me_ , Dex heard, and understood. “I can send you some, if you’d like.”

“I… yes, I’d appreciate that.”

Jack gave him a small smile and a nod. And then snapped another photo of Bitty. Derek caught Dex’s eye at just that moment and rolled his eyes. Dex smothered another laugh.

And then it was time for them to leave. Larissa promised to call if they had any questions or needed any follow-up. “It’s the final piece for the issue, though, so we’ll be trying to turn it around as fast as we can. I think we got everything we needed today, honestly. I’ll definitely let you know when it’s done. You’ll get a copy, of course.”

“I’ll look forward to it.” He stood on the porch until their cars were out of sight.

He was just turning to go back in the house, feeling unaccustomedly light, when a fox hopped over lowest bar of the house fence and sat impertinently on a pumpkin, tail twitching around her feet. He narrowed his eyes.

“Mandy.”

The fox opened her mouth in a wicked smile, tongue lolling for a moment before she jumped down, and between one moment and the next transformed into a woman. Her human guise was close enough to her regular court appearance to still be recognizable, though her hair was all dark brown, rather than just the tips, and her ears were rounded, with no fur at the tips. Thank goodness. Her eyes still sparkled with their ever-present mischief, to his complete lack of surprise, but he knew her well enough to think she seemed uncharacteristically subdued.

“Where’s Jenny?”

“My love has been made a personal handmaiden to your mother. It is a great honor.”

“Ah.” That explained a lot. There was no way Mandy could refuse anything his mother asked of her now. “And what have you been tasked with this time?”

“To watch you. To report back. To tell you to come home.”

Dex’s mood completed its downward journey to sour. It was now starting to smolder its way to enraged. “No.”

Mandy made a wordless noise of frustration and stamped a foot.

He frowned at her. “I understand your position, but you know mine. I will not return. I have made my choice.”

“She won’t give up. She knows where you are now.”

He scoffed. “She has always known where I am. Part of her power flows through me. I have never been under any illusions about this.”

Mandy glared at him. “This is your final word?”

“It is.”

“Fine.” She whirled around, ponytail transforming into tail as it whipped behind her, and then she was bounding over the fields, into the trees.

He sighed. At least she’d warned him.

***

Dex was on edge for days after that, waiting for some sign that his mother was going to make her next move. Which was his excuse for why he answered the honestly quite polite knock at his door with a glare that should have set the person on the other side on fire.

The person on the other side was Derek. Who was wearing a green sweater that looked better on him that it had any right to and an extremely alarmed look. He took an immediate step back. “Uh, hi?” he ventured.

Dex ran his hand over his face. “Sorry, I thought you were going to be someone else. Hi.”

“Well, I’d hate to be them, then. If looks could kill, man.”

“Uh, it’s just,” Dex made a vague gesture with his hand, “family stuff.”

“Ah.” Derek’s expression was immediately sympathetic. Infinitely better, though, he let the subject drop completely.

“So did you need a follow-up or something?”

Derek’s eyes widened slightly, and Dex could _see_ him consider the lie before he went with a kind of sheepish smile and said instead, “Not really. We’re pretty much done. I think they’re sending everything to the printer today. I was actually just kind of hoping to ask you out for coffee or something.”

Dex blinked. This was not what he was expecting from this day _at all_.

“Um. Sure. Just let me grab my jacket.”

Derek’s answering grin was blinding.

***

At the edge of the woods, the fox bared her teeth in a vicious smile and spun to disappear through a swirl of fallen leaves and dappled shadow.

***

“Ah, Mandy.” The Autumn Queen reclined on her moss-covered throne in a dress of green ivy turning to oranges and reds and finally deep purples at the bottom, red hair a wild and curling cloud around her today. “You bring news?”

It wasn’t really a question. Mandy risked darting a quick glance at Jenny, standing just to the right of the throne, ostensibly a position of honor, but, well. The queen’s temper was… changeable. Mandy swallowed. “He went on a date.”

“A… date?”

“A human asked him to walk out. He accepted. He seemed quite pleased to be asked.”

The queen’s eyes narrowed. “Bring the human to me.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

***

Derek pulled back out onto the main road outside Dex’s farm feeling like he was floating. It was just a stupid coffee date, but it had been so good! Dex—could he maybe call him Will?—was certainly initially intimidating, but he had the wryest sense of humor. After spending the whole day with him for the interview, Derek hadn’t been able to resist coming back. He thought back to the smile he had managed to win from Dex in the coffee shop. Worth it.

He was distracted from these already distracting thoughts by a woman waving him down from the side of the road. He pulled over onto the shoulder and rolled down the window. “Do you need help?”

“I’m so sorry, this is terribly silly of me, but I was hiking and…” She trailed off helplessly.

“Oh, did you get lost? Do you need a ride back to town? Or your car?”

“To town would be great! I’m sure I can find my way from there.”

“Sure, hop in.”

They managed to make polite small talk about the local scenery for the ten minutes it took to get to the nearby small town. Derek pulled into a parking space by the coffee shop just because it made him smile and turned to the woman. “Is this okay?”

“Yes, of course! Oh, how can I get in touch with you later about appropriate recompense?”

Derek absently noted the odd phrasing, writer brain wondering if he could use it somehow. “Oh, it was no problem, really!”

“Please, I insist.”

He shrugged. “Sure. Hold on.” He opened the center console between the seats and fished around for a business card. “Here you go. It’s got my email and phone number on it.”

She studied it for a moment, lips curving in a smile that seemed… sharp. “Derek Malik Nurse. How interesting that you use your full name.”

His lips thinned for a moment. “I got tired of people seeing ‘Derek Nurse’ on their schedules and expecting a white guy.”

“I’m sure,” she murmured, reaching toward him. As he shied back, he heard “Derek Malik Nurse” again, this time with intent, and then she brushed her fingers over his eyes and he knew no more.

***

Derek didn’t call him back. Dex had gone from disappointed to worried to annoyed over the course of the last two days, and he was tired of it. This is what came of actually interacting with people.

He loaded up his truck with display pumpkins for the downtown shops, then threw himself into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. That didn't really do anything to fix his mood, so he switched to glaring at the road hard enough the asphalt should have started to boil. Overhead, dark clouds started to gather. If he was going to be in a bad mood, why shouldn’t everyone else be, too?

Before he could whip up a really good storm, though, he was startled by the sight of a familiar car parked by the coffee shop. He parked across the street and got out of the truck slowly. Was Derek here? Something seemed off. He approached the car. There was a parking ticket stuck under the windshield wiper for being parked overnight. He frowned and reached a hand out toward the car. Yes, magic. Familiar magic. Mandy.

He grimaced. He would have to go home.

***

“Gwillym! My strong Right Fist! You have returned to me.” The queen rose from her throne and came forward with arms outstretched, a sweet smile on her face.

Dex stared her down, impassive, then made a slow and deliberate bow, meticulously polite. “Your majesty.”

She allowed her arms to fall to her sides, ever graceful. Her gown of gold and silver willow fronds rustled softly at her every move, lulling the ignorant into a false sense of calm. Even worse, her hair fell in a pale golden stream behind her. The closer to monochromatic the queen became, the more dangerous she actually was. She looked him over with distaste as she took in his clothes. He had at least allowed his illusions to fall when he stepped into Faerie, but that was the only concession he was willing to make.

“I see you joined us in haste, child. You must be so weary, to not even have taken the time to refresh yourself.” _Or dress appropriately_ echoed loudly, if unsaid, around the hall.

Jenny, the picture of a dutiful handmaiden, glided forward to take his arm, clearly intended to lead him to his chambers, but he raised his own regal hand and gestured her back. Two could play at this game. He was a prince, after all. “My lady is very kind, but it is true, I am here on a matter of some urgency and would rather not delay.”

The queen’s smile had taken on a distinct, somewhat triumphant edge now. She waved a dismissive hand at the assembled courtiers and swept forward again to take his arm. He placed his hand over hers at the crook of his elbow, court manners reasserting themselves without thought. “Walk with me,” she said, leading him on a circuit of the room until they reached the windows overlooking a pleasant courtyard garden.

Derek was sitting on a bench under the large oak planted in the middle, orange and brown leaves scattered on the seat and ground around him, writing happily in a notebook with occasional pauses to stare into space.

“What are you doing to him?” Dex asked, trying not to grit his teeth.

“Me? Nothing. I’m just allowing his innate talents to blossom and thrive.”

“Blossoming isn’t really your department, Mother.”

Her laugh was crystalline as she swatted his arm. “Your appreciation for wordplay must be what attracted you to him. Such a charming young man. He wants to be a poet, did you know?”

Dex clenched his jaw to prevent a groan. “I knew he was a writer.”

His mother pursed her lips thoughtfully. “It’s been so long since I had a bard here. I should keep him. It would enliven the evenings so. Humans do bring such a unique spark of creativity, don’t you think?”

“He isn’t your pet, Mother. He has a life, friends, family. You have to give him back.”

“Yes, friends… he does have friends, doesn’t he? _You_ are one of his friends. And how fortuitous! You’re here! Won’t you both like that?”

Dex sighed. “What do you want?”

The queen narrowed her eyes. “You know exactly what I want: for you to stop neglecting your duties as my heir.”

“Me? Urien is your heir.”

“Oh, no, he is my Huntsman now. You didn’t think that job would go untended after your departure, did you? We were charged with to carry out the Wild Hunts of Autumn by Arawn himself.”

Dex narrowed his eyes in response, their familial resemblance suddenly stark. “Urien was never meant to ride the Hunt, and you know it.”

The queen gave a graceful shrug. “You must choose a role. You elected not to be my Huntsman, so now you must be my heir. I have been as lenient as I can be, waiting for your return, but even my patience has limits. There are duties that cannot be neglected indefinitely.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “As if you ever intend to relinquish the throne.”

Lightning flashed across her eyes and he knew he’d pressed too far. “You forget yourself,” she hissed. “I am the Queen of Autumn, and I _will_ have an heir. Choose.”

He drew himself to his full height. “I have already done so. I choose to _leave_. Urien is your heir, and you should treat him as such. The Wild Hunt is archaic. It is finished. The humans don’t even acknowledge it anymore, let alone fear it!” He had made all of these arguments before, many times, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from trying again.

“Human criminals must pay, Gwillym. You know this.”

“And so they do. That’s what their justice system is for. Riding down the guilty with spectral hounds doesn’t really work as much of a deterrent if they don’t believe any of it is real anymore.”

The queen shrugged, dismissive. “Humans have always been the lesser creatures. We will always hunt.”

Dex wanted to tear at his hair in frustration. “We must change with the times or Faerie will grow further and further from the mortal realm, until all the connections snap. You may keep your realm unchanging, but I assure you, that is _not_ the case on the other side. Your actions are dangerous. To yourself and your subjects.”

Lightning crackled through her hair this time as she glared. “I will give you ten minutes with your human plaything, and then you will leave. Return when you remember how to show the proper respect.” She swept away.

Cautiously, he stepped into the courtyard, throwing on a hasty glamour to hide his ears again. Derek seemed too calm to have any idea where he really was, and he didn’t want to strain whatever illusion he might be operating under. “Derek?” he called softly.

The other man turned and gave a brilliant smile. “Dex! How did you get here? Have you been harboring writing dreams all along, too?”

Dex had no idea what Derek was talking about, but he went with it. “I came to see you.”

“All the way to Iowa? Isn’t this your busiest season?”

Dex winced. Whatever illusion Derek was operating under, it was clearly letting him fill in the details however he wished. All Dex could use was the truth. “I was worried about you when I didn't hear from you.”

Derek looked horrified. “Oh no! Oh, I’m so sorry! When the Writers’ Workshop people contacted me about being invited to this special session, it was so last-minute, I just kind of dropped everything.” He started patting his pockets. “I don’t… I don’t even know where my phone is right now, actually. Shit. I hope I haven’t missed anything important.”

Dex could see the edges of the illusion starting to crack and hastened to reassure him. Things would be much worse if he actually started seeing Faerie for what it really was. “No, no, I’m sure everything is fine. You have vacation time, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Derek relaxed again. “But seriously, I can’t believe you came all this way.”

“Oh, I have family here. It was… time to see them again. It had been a while.” Time to divert Derek’s attention away from awkward questions. “So tell me about what you’ve been doing here.”

And for the remainder of his allotted ten minutes, he listened to Derek enthusiastically describe the nature writing and poetry seminar he was attending. “It’s all very free-form, we’re allowed to wander wherever for inspiration, which is really easy because isn’t this the most beautiful campus?”

Dex consoled himself with the thought that at least once he got Derek out of this mess, he’d have a plausible excuse for coming back bard-touched. He’d just have to hope no one else asked for a referral to this apparently miraculous writing program.

“Well, I don’t want to distract you from your work any longer. You’ve only a limited time, here, after all. Better make the most of it! Promise to give me a call when you get back to Boston, though. You still owe me a second date.”

Derek smiled. “Yes, of course! It was really good to see you. I’m glad you dropped by, even, like, completely out of the blue.”

Dex smiled back, hoping it looked more natural than it felt. “I’ll see you again soon.” It was a promise, and he didn’t care if his mother’s guard, come to escort him out, heard it.

***

The farm could take care of itself, or so he told it. He hired some high school students to run the downtown pumpkin patch stall and spent his time patrolling the edges of the forest. His mother wasn’t done, and he knew her next move would come soon. Once the queen set a campaign in motion, she didn’t waste time.

After two days of stewing, Mandy appeared.

“Well?” he snapped.

“She offers you a deal. Join the Hunt on Hallowe’en, and she will let your human go. Or don’t, and she will keep him for as long as he remains amusing.”

He clenched his jaw and tried to keep from sneering at Mandy. It wasn’t her fault she had been made his mother’s messenger. Though she didn’t have to seem to be enjoying it quite so much. “Fine. You have delivered her message. Begone.”

Mandy gave a sarcastic curtsy and stepped back through a sunbeam.

It was a bit cliché for his mother to set him up to pull a Janet, but he would.

***

A day later, it occurred to him that his mother thought it wouldn’t work because the rescuer had to be in love with the kidnapped victim.

And yet Dex had never once doubted it would work.

Oh.

He wondered when that had happened. _How_ that had happened, for that matter. He’d figure it out later. Fortunately, as far as he knew, the feelings only had to be on the part of the rescuer. They hardly knew each other, so it was unlikely Derek felt the same. And Dex was practiced at getting over, or at least ignoring, emotional upheaval. He was essentially immortal here; he could take all the time he wanted to get over it later.

For now, he had a rescue to stage. And in the interest of accomplishing that successfully, he focused on all the things he had learned about Derek in their short time together. All the things he had fallen in love with.

His eye for detail.

His ability to ask questions that never probed too far, but still made the other person want to answer him to the best of their ability.

His instinct for when to allow silence to reign.

The way he actually got, and appreciated, Dex’s humor, which was apparently too dry for most to even catch.

His ink-stained fingers.

The way he gestured when he spoke.

His smile. The real one, not the polite interviewer one. The one that didn’t seem practiced and even.

The swelling feeling of warm pressure in his chest was becoming a bit much. That was probably enough thinking about all of that.

Curse his mother.

***

Hallowe’en. Dex stood at the crossroads of two ancient paths in the woods beyond his farm, waiting for the Hunt to appear. The wind whipped through the increasingly bare branches above him, sending leaves skirling through the air and attenuated clouds scudding past the moon, hanging full in an otherwise crystal-clear sky.

He had dispensed with illusions for the night and arrayed himself in all the old trappings of his position as Huntsman. His pointed ears were clearly evident, highlighted by the glinting bronze and gold piercings along their edges, both elegant and savage. His hair seemed longer, wilder, strands catching in the breeze. His eyes, normally dulled to a whiskey-brown, glowed and flickered like fire, like flames. He was dressed in his hunting leathers, wearing them like armor. His hand rested on the hilt of a long silver knife.

He was beautiful. He was terrifying.

Like mother, like son.

As the first eerie baying of the hounds echoed through the forest, he bared his teeth, now noticeably sharper, in a grin that would never be classified as friendly. A stronger gust of wind blew by, leaves scattering, and on the moonlit path before him, now faintly glowing, the Hunt appeared.

“Halt,” he commanded. The Cŵn Annwn obeyed immediately, recognizing the voice of their longtime master. Urien, wearing his own hunting leathers and looking distinctly uncomfortable about it, reined his horse in sharply.

“Brother,” he said, bowing his head.

Dex returned the nod. “Brother. I have no quarrel with you. Stand aside.”

As Urien immediately kneed his horse to the side of the path, Dex locked eyes with the queen, sitting calmly on her midnight steed next to a dazed-looking Derek, mounted on a contrasting milk-white horse. She was fully in her guise as Matilda of the Night now, hair raven black, dressed in tattered shadows and cobwebs. As he watched, she grinned her own cruelly sharp grin and then raised her head to let out an ear-splitting shriek, honed over hundreds of years to break the nerve of the most hardened criminals and spur the hounds on. The Hunt leapt back into motion.

Just as Dex had expected.

As the hounds flowed around him, he kept his gaze trained on Derek, willing him to focus. He saw it the moment Derek truly noticed him, the glazed look disappearing from his eyes. “Dex?” he mouthed, eyes widening. As his horse drew closer, Dex raised his hand. Derek seemed to understand instinctively, freeing his own hand from the reins and reaching down.

They caught each other’s forearms like they’d practiced it for years. Dex planted his feet and heaved, pulling Derek forcibly from the galloping horse and catching him against his chest. He held him there firmly, as his mother wheeled the Hunt around.

“What’s going on?” Derek whispered, staring at Dex in shock. Cautiously, he reached up to touch one of Dex’s ears, unsure if what he was seeing was real.

“I promise to explain everything to you as soon as we are safe. But this is not over,” Dex said.

His mother, cold, terrifying, beautiful, reined in before him. “Really, Gwillym? A mortal? I wouldn’t have thought it of you.”

“I pulled him from the milk-white steed. Relinquish your hold.”

She scoffed. “As if you could truly be in love with one such as he, short-lived and fleeting.” Her eyes narrowed and she smiled, a thin-lipped gash across her bone-white face. “You’ll have to prove it.”

“Do your worst.”

“Oh, child, you should not have challenged me.” And then she snapped her fingers, transforming Derek into giant python, sinuous and coiling in Dex’s arms. He stood firm, eyes never leaving the queen’s face.

 _Snap_. He held an enormous bear. He ignored its claws and teeth so close to his face and held on.

 _Snap_. A huge wolf. Apparently his mother was diverging slightly from the classics here; he’d been expecting a lion. As if he hadn’t spent most of his life around canines, at her own behest. He only held the beast closer.

 _Snap_. A red-hot iron rod, like sword stock just pulled from the forge, but the heat could not touch him. The weight tugged at his arms, the sudden contrast between a struggling animal and a rigid metal weight threatening to knock him off balance, but he held firm, sinking his weight further into the earth.

 _Snap_. A burning brand. The fire in his eyes flared in response, and his gaze never wavered, never faltering as he glared his defiance at his mother.

Turning one hand to free his fingers from their clutching hold, he made his own snap. An underground spring bubbled to the surface beside the path and he bent to lower the flaming brand into the water. It extinguished itself in a cloud of steam, and when it cleared, Derek lay there, naked and confused, hand still clasped firmly in Dex’s. Dex helped him back to his feet, wrapping his arms around him once more.

The queen hissed her displeasure. “Cadfael Gwillym Poindexter, I compel you. Release him and return to me.”

Dex felt his body go rigid at the sound of his true name on the queen’s lips, but then… nothing happened. He did not release Derek, nor did he feel compelled to move to the queen’s side.

He lifted his chin. “No.”

The queen jerked back in shock.

“I am not your creature anymore. I am my own.”

Urien rode forward and threw Dex his cloak. He wrapped it protectively around Derek.

The queen, enraged, opened her mouth to shriek again, but he cut her off.

“Mallt-y-Nos, I banish thee.” Power thrummed through his words, flowing through him from the earth beneath his feet, the trees around him, the moon overhead. “You have trespassed on these mortal lands for too long. Your time is finished.”

His mother seemed to shrink before him, the aura of her power diminishing even as his increased. “You will never be welcome in my lands again,” she hissed.

“Never is a long time,” he said calmly, “but so be it. You know where to find me.”

She wheeled her horse, but before she could hit the shining path back to Faerie, he let out a piercing whistle.

“Cŵn Annwn, to me!”

And just like that, the pack peeled away and ran back to him, milling obediently around his feet. He allowed his hand to brush lightly over their silky heads. Derek extended a hand as well, and the hounds happily bumped up against it, accepting him readily.

“The Hunt is ended.”

The queen let out a cry of pure frustration and disappeared back to Faerie in a thunderclap.

Urien allowed his horse to dance a few steps closer. “Gwillym. It truly is good to see you again.”

“And you, Urien.” He smiled, genuine this time. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to get away, but please know you are always welcome here.”

“I… I think she will be angry for quite some time, but I will keep it in mind.” He returned the smile, somewhat tentatively. “I wish you well.” His gaze flicked to Derek briefly, and his smile grew more sure. “Both of you.”

They reached out and clasped forearms, both squeezing briefly, and then Urien followed the queen back to Faerie.

Derek’s knees buckled and Dex tightened the arm around his waist, taking as much of his weight as he could. He raised one hand and ran it lightly along Derek’s cheek, cupping his jaw. “Are you all right?”

“I… maybe? I really don’t know. Seriously, what just happened?”

“Let’s go back to the house so I can get you some clothes and I’ll explain.”

Derek looked down and seemed to suddenly realize he was naked but for Urien’s cloak. He clutched at the edges of the fabric. “Oh shit, yes, let’s.”

Dex drew back reluctantly, relinquishing his hold on Derek for the first time in what felt like hours, then pursed his lips as he looked him up and down. He bent down and unlaced his boots, holding them out. “Put these on so you can walk across the fields. They should fit.”

“But… what about you?”

“The earth won’t hurt me.”

“Oh-kay…” Derek said doubtfully, but he pulled the boots on nonetheless. And then watched Dex’s feet carefully as they walked back through the woods and across the fields. “How are you doing that? It’s like you’re not even touching the ground.”

“Um, it’s kind of the opposite? The ground is letting me know where to step, I suppose.”

“No, dude, I’m pretty sure I just saw a twig move out of the way.”

Dex tilted his head and considered what he was feeling, trying to bring it into his conscious perception. “That’s… quite possible.” He shrugged. “We get along, the earth and I.”

“Huh.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Dex could feel Derek studying him, but he kept his own attention on the hounds, who were ranging out into the fields and then back to him, tails wagging, tongues lolling from their mouths. He smiled. He had missed them. Their white bodies made them look like ghosts floating amongst the pumpkins, which he supposed wasn’t entirely wrong. They were spectral when on the Hunt, after all. But now, here on his land, they were entirely solid, a point made emphatically clear as one of them ran eagerly into the back of his knees. He reached down to fondle its blood-red ears. “Who’s my good boy?” he asked. The dog danced happily around him for a few steps before racing off again.

Derek laughed. Dex arched an eyebrow at him. “I guess dogs are dogs, no matter their origins.”

Dex felt himself blush. “Well, they are good dogs. They were just doing their jobs.”

They climbed the steps to the back porch and entered through the kitchen door. Dex flicked on the lights, and Derek stared at him in shock.

“What?” Dex asked.

“Just… you look even more… uh,” he gestured vaguely at Dex’s entire person, “in electric light. It’s a lot to take in.”

“Oh.” Dex’s hand rose self-consciously to his ear, and he started to reinstate his illusion.

Derek caught his wrist. “No, don’t. I… I like it. It’s like I’m really seeing you for the first time.”

Dex frowned. “You have always seen me.” He shifted uncomfortably.

Derek’s face creased in distress, and he ran his thumb across Dex’s knuckles. “That’s not what I meant. I know _you_. I just feel like I’m finally seeing that part of you that you were holding back, too. I’m seeing _all_ of you.”

Dex felt some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders. “Oh. Well, yes. But you see why I couldn’t really tell you. It’s a bit hard to explain.”

Derek barked a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that.” Then he looked back down at himself. “And I really want to know more, but maybe clothes first.”

Dex jerked himself back into motion. “Yes, of course. Upstairs.” He led the way to his bedroom and fished out sweatpants and a t-shirt that looked like they’d fit Derek. Fortunately, they were much the same size. He grabbed some for himself as well.

“I’ll, uh, just let you change. I’ll be just across the hall,” he said, gesturing to the bathroom.

“I dunno, I was kind of digging the leather,” Derek said with a grin.

Dex knew his face was flaming as he turned away, and he didn’t care.

***

Shortly, they settled themselves back in the living room. Dex had made tea, and a handful of the dogs had come inside, draping themselves on the furniture or curling up on the rug. One had its head resting firmly in Derek’s lap, blissfully getting its head scratched as it stretched along the entire rest of the couch. Dex just rolled his eyes as he set Derek’s tea next to him on the end table and took the nearest armchair instead. Another dog promptly draped itself across his feet.

“I feel weird,” he confessed.

Derek quirked a sardonic eyebrow. “ _You_ feel weird?”

“I’ve never been in human clothes and without my illusions on in front of anyone else before. I mean, here.”

Derek smiled now. “I dig the piercings. And the hair. Less straight-edge.”

Dex huffed a laugh. “Ah, now I see. You have secret bad boy fantasies.”

“I never said they were secret.” Derek calmly took a sip of his tea, but it couldn’t hide his grin. But then he grew more serious. “So I was never at the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, huh?”

“Definitely not. Should you ever actually go, I fear you will find the university campus somewhat… lacking.”

“No kidding. But why did I think I was there?”

“Mandy cast an illusion on you. Your mind was filling in the details with that which you most desired.”

Derek’s face grew pinched with embarrassment. “I never told anyone that. About the poetry, I mean.”

“It wasn’t necessary. The Fae cannot lie, but we are very practiced at leading mortals to fill in the details and getting them to mislead themselves.”

Derek frowned. “Oh. That woman who said she was lost. Well, she never said she was lost, exactly. I gave her a ride, and then she said my name, and then everything went kind of hazy.”

“Yeah. I was hoping the illusion would hold and you’d never truly become aware of what happened to you.”

Derek shot him a sharp look. “No! No, I’m glad I know the truth.” Suddenly he looked concerned, almost afraid. “Are you going to take the memories from me? Is that a thing you can do?”

Dex shook his head. “I suppose it would be possible, but it is not one of my talents. Besides, what’s done is done. It is… easier now, to not have to hide half of myself from you.”

Derek relaxed. “Good. I agree.” Then he yawned hugely.

Dex nudged the dog off his feet and stood, extending a hand to Derek. “Come, you should sleep. Transformations are difficult.”

Derek blinked and then took his hand. “Oh my god, I think I had convinced myself that didn’t actually happen.”

Dex hesitated, then said, “Honestly, that’s probably for the best. You weren’t prepared for the experience, and it can be somewhat, um, traumatic for mortal minds. Fortunately, it was only a few seconds in each shape. The sensations should fade fairly quickly.”

Derek just nodded, forehead creased. But then he yawned again and seemed to need all of his attention to climb the stairs. Dex led him down the hall toward the guest room, but Derek stopped at the door to Dex’s room instead. Dex paused and looked questioningly back over his shoulder.

“Can I… would it be okay to sleep with you? Please? I don’t want to be alone right now. I feel like… like I need to be touching someone or I’ll forget I’m real.”

Dex swallowed and then nodded. He let Derek lead him to the bed and then arrange himself comfortably on Dex’s shoulder. Within minutes, the other man had sunk into an exhausted sleep. Absently, he wound one of Derek’s curls around his finger and stared out the window at the moon. He wondered how soon he would need to start trying to fall out of love with him.

***

Dex woke to a cold, wet nose being pressed into the side of his neck. “Gerroff,” he mumbled into the pillow, shoving the dog away. Then he realized the other side of the bed was empty and was abruptly awake.

“Where’s Derek?” he asked the hound. It wagged its tail eagerly and trotted to the door. He followed it.

It led him to the kitchen. Derek looked up from his seat at the kitchen island and smiled. “You’re awake! I made coffee. And I found a loaf of Bitty’s pumpkin bread in your freezer, which I managed to defrost enough to make toast, kind of.”

Dex just stared at him, unable to speak around the feeling of relief in his chest.

“What?” Derek asked.

“You’re still here.”

“Yeah? Where else would I be?”

“I was just… sure you had left.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not like my car is here. Or my clothes, or my wallet.”

“Oh. Yes, of course.” Dex schooled his features as he crossed to the cabinet to take down a mug. He concentrated intently on pouring himself some coffee.

He flinched when a light hand touched his back. “Hey, no. Dex.” Derek slipped around him so he could look at him directly, eyes searching his face. “That’s not the only reason I stayed. I mean, logistically, those things do pose a problem. But I honestly never considered leaving. I _want_ to be here. Do… do you not want me here? I just… I assumed, because your mother said something about you falling for a mortal…” He looked alarmed and then his eyebrows pulled down. “Did I let myself fill in the details I wanted to hear again?”

Dex raised a hand and ran his fingers along Derek’s brow, trying to smooth away the crease in the middle. “No,” he said softly. “You heard correctly. I couldn’t have saved you if I didn’t love you.” He let his hand drop and cleared his throat, looking down at his coffee again. “But I can start trying to forget. You’re safe now.”

Derek grabbed his hand and drew his fingers up to kiss them. “Why would I want you to forget?”

“But… I mean,” Dex floundered. “I don’t wish you to feel obligated to me. You hardly know me. To expect… to hope you might feel similarly… it’s foolish.”

“Then I am a fool,” Derek said, and kissed him. Dex felt rooted to the floor in shock. Derek drew back slightly and ran a hand through the hair at the nape of Dex’s neck, toying with the strands there as he stared at something in the vicinity of Dex’s collarbones, gathering his thoughts. Then he raised his eyes again. “You said I have always seen you. Well, you have always seen me. Do you know how rare it is for people to talk to me only as a person? To have absolutely no reaction to my appearance? To actually find me _annoying_?” He laughed softly. “And then you came to… well, to Faerie, I guess it really was, and all you did was listen to me talk about poetry. I haven’t talked to anyone else about poetry, let alone _my_ poetry, since seventh grade. I knew you wouldn’t ridicule me for my passions.”

“I would never…!” Dex started indignantly.

Derek put a finger against his lips and smiled. “I know. And that’s why I love you. I think that’s when I knew I was probably already a little in love with you. I spent the rest of my time writing poems about you… I wonder if they’re any good…” he trailed off, then seemed to recall his point. “But you have to understand how rare that is.”

This time, Dex kissed him. The toast lay abandoned, forgotten on the counter, until it was stolen by a hound.

***

The next morning, they found Derek’s messenger bag, including his wallet and his notebook full of poetry, on the back porch. A single bronze oak leaf lay next to it, shimmering in a way no mortal oak leaf ever did. Dex twirled its stem between his fingers and smiled at the sound of migrating geese in the distance. Urien.

They sat on porch swing for the rest of the morning, wrapped in blankets and watching the dogs wander around in the fog over the fields. Eventually Derek opened the notebook and read some of the poems aloud to Dex, tentative at first, but then with growing confidence.

They were good. Very good indeed.

Perhaps the Autumn Queen had given them both more gifts than she intended.

**Author's Note:**

> To "pull a Janet" means that Dex is going to have to rescue Derek the same way the original Janet rescued Tam Lin, ie, on the crossroads on Halloween, pulling him from his horse, etc. (Except without the pregnancy clause, because that is frankly kind of creepy. Not to mention impractical, in this case.) In this story, I basically replaced the Tam Lin fairy court procession to deliver their tithe to Hell with a ride of the Wild Hunt, because, as I said in the tags, this is all just a mash-up of various bits of fairy lore that amused me.
> 
> The [Cŵn Annwn](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C%C5%B5n_Annwn) are the hounds that run on the Wild Hunt. "A Cŵn Annwn's goal in the Wild Hunt is to hunt wrongdoers into the ground until they can run no longer, just as the criminals did to their victims." They have white bodies and red ears. Also per Wikipedia: "The hounds are sometimes accompanied by a fearsome hag called Mallt-y-Nos, 'Matilda of the Night.' An alternative name in Welsh folklore is Cŵn Mamau ('Hounds of the Mothers')," a job I assigned the Autumn Queen as well.
> 
> Names: Dex's full name is Cadfael (Welsh: "battle prince") Gwillym (Welsh version of William: "desire to protect") Poindexter (from the French for "fist" and "right") because he was his mother's war/Hunt leader. No "J" middle name because Welsh doesn't use that letter. Why his mother decided to use the affectation of Poindexter is anyone's guess. No one has dared to ask her.  
> -Urien (Welsh: "priviledged birth") is the eldest and was always meant to be heir.
> 
> ETA: I forgot to link artistic inspiration! Here is a lovely [Tam Lin moodboard](http://rhysiana.tumblr.com/post/152574187418/graveyardrabbit-special-interest-moodboards).  
> -Also, [look at this amazing moodboard](http://siennalauren.tumblr.com/post/156956570035/derek-nurse-has-cut-it-extremely-fine-on-finding-a) HoardofDragons made specifically for this fic!!!!


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